


With the Moon on Our Backs

by Swampert653 (lionsenpai)



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-29
Updated: 2013-05-29
Packaged: 2017-12-13 07:45:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/821767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lionsenpai/pseuds/Swampert653
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ymir has never been very good with the 3D Gear, and Sasha owes her one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With the Moon on Our Backs

You swing through the trees easily, the rush of night air twisting your hair into tangles and knots.

Your heart pounds in your chest as you swing around the trunk of a great oak, and laughter bubbles up out of you as the winds tug at the flaps of your jacket. You haven’t had this much fun since dinner, and that was hours ago.

Behind you, Ymir is gaining fast, not so happy as she is intent, but you still catch glimpses of a smirk whenever you round a tree, changing the direction of the chase so she’s left scrambling to stay on your tail. She was never as good as you were with the 3D Gear. You flew around corners and skated right over the ground  when she struggled just to follow the route. What came easy to you never did to her.

So she called in that favor you owed her, and when you heard she had come to collect, you thought of a million things worse than late night lessons.

You let out another hoot and accelerate. She’s gotten better at chasing you down, but you don’t make it easy for her. You’ve been playing hunter for years, but you give just as good as you get even when you’re the one running, when you’re the prey. Really, you almost think you like it better this way.

It was boring work at first, tasteless like the slop they give you when food stores are low. It left a twist of discontent in your gut. Ymir was bad, and your attempts to help were never what she needed or wanted. Talking to her was difficult, more difficult than talking to anyone else. So you would swing through the trees, thinking of what you’d have for breakfast the next morning before hand to hand training with Connie.

All it took was for her to do better. Once you stopped losing her every time you’d take off through the trees (she told you at the beginning: don’t slow down) she stopped flinching away from your advice like you were trying to insult, and now every night with her is easy, fun. Now you look forward to her catching you.

But that doesn’t mean you make it easy on her.

You swing around an elm, only to look over your shoulder and see that she’s disappeared. For one second you think you’ve lost her, and then she comes vaulting around the other side of the tree, snatching you from the air easily.

You let out a yell that’s half surprise and half giddy excitement as the two of you go spinning around the elm, her arm holding you tight against her chest. She sticks the landing, her feet landing firmly against the bark of the great tree. She’s out of breath but so utterly pleased with herself that you grin, loosen your hands from the back of her jacket, and push her hair back from her face. You crane your neck up and kiss her plainly on the lips.

Her arm is wrapped tight around your waist and the other and at her belt, locking her gear to keep where you are. She can only fumble her lips against yours in the unexpected kiss, but it’s enough for you.

When you pull back, you say, “You taste good.”

She snorts and taps your gear, reminding you to anchor yourself to the tree as well. “You still taste like potatoes.”

You hum happily, reaching for your gear absent-mindedly and setting a line just below hers to keep you from falling should she suddenly decide to drop her legs from beneath you. You tell her: “Potatoes taste good too.”

She laughs at that, and there is sweat collected across her brow. You want to kiss her again.

“Well? Bet you didn’t even see me coming, did ya? Got you good that time,” she grins at you. She slips her hand from her gear to the belt at your hip and pulls you up against her. You wrap your legs around her waist and your arms around her neck. She bends her legs at the knee, and somewhere behind you, you feel the roughness of bark.

“Do you want to go again?” you ask, heart pounding at the thought of another chase.

She looks at you through the darkness, and you can barely make out her freckles in the faint light of the moon. She’s smiling, lop-sided and content, and she slides her hand up from belt to your stomach. You shiver and your stomach caves.

“No,” she says. “I caught you fair and square.”

She leans forward and kisses you, more confident in the way her lips move against yours now that she’s got a hand to work with. You tangle your fingers in her hair and she brushes her fingers over a breast. You sigh into the kiss and think, yeah, she did catch you fair and square, but you always give as good as you get, and the night’s far from over.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes I just want to read about girls kissing.


End file.
